


Monsters and Feelings

by coal15



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Love, M/M, confusing feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coal15/pseuds/coal15
Summary: The Monster offers Quentin a deal that might save Eliot. Also Quentin gets to talk to Eliot.





	Monsters and Feelings

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Монстры и чувства](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964452) by [fandom_The_Magicians_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_The_Magicians_2019/pseuds/fandom_The_Magicians_2019), [IryStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IryStorm/pseuds/IryStorm)



The Monster stood in a darkened hallway, watching Quentin pour over a scattered pile of books and scrolls. His Host body adored the man, The Monster had sensed it immediately.

_Irrelevant._

Neither adoration nor love meant much to him. He could understand those things, somewhat, in theory. As concepts. But the ability to  _feel_ those things? No.

And it generally didn't bother him, either. He had other concerns. No time to ponder over humans and their tiny, dumb feelings. Even the strong feelings.

But then there was this.

He wanted to be Quentin's friend. He wanted Quentin to  _like_ him. Enough to lie and say The Eliot was dead so Quentin would let go of The Host and focus instead on  _him._ New him. The used-to-be-Eliot. He was too powerful a being to have need for deceit. Not when killing was so much easier. So his spontaneous decision to lie to Quentin did not make much sense. Even to him.

It was an uncomfortable mystery. A small puzzle off to the side of the much bigger, more important puzzle. Where to find the pieces of his own body. (If, indeed, that's what all those strange rocks really were. It was still a bit unclear as far as The Monster was concerned.)

It seemed to him that the bizarre adoration and need for Quentin's friendship emanated from The Eliot. He suspected this because his sense . . . his awareness . . . of these alien feelings had grown much stronger in the last few days. As if The Eliot had previously been trying to mute them, even within his own trapped mind, and then given up the effort.

Suddenly.

For some reason.

 _The Eliot got out for a moment._ The Monster theorized.  _The Eliot has hope of returning now. He must have spoken to his Quentin. The Eliot feels . . ._ of all feelings, it was one The Monster most struggled to understand. Love. He understood need. Dependency. Desperation. Want. Hunger. Boredom. And friendship . . . somewhat. At least to the extent he felt it toward Quentin. Even if the feeling did originate within his Host. He could at least make some sense of it.

Friend. Wanting approval and attention from  _friend._

But this newer thing . . . a stronger feeling within The Eliot . . . a longing just for Quentin. The Man. Not for his attention or approval, but just the man as an entity.  _There are billions of people, how can one matter so much? Just to be around?_ He wondered.  _They're all so easily replaceable!_

Before all the new feelings of these last few days, though he did  _desire_  Quentin's friendship, if The Monster's cause could be best served by killing him? He would have done so with only a small twinge of sadness, and then moved on. Any regret would quickly fade.

Regrets were never lingering things, in his experience.

Now the absurd emotions forced upon him by The Eliot made killing Quentin without regret seem impossible.  _An unfair impediment,_ he thought.  _My quest is more important than a small man and his little feelings. My quest MATTERS._

Still, he stared and stared at Quentin. Turning pages. Making notes.

 _Could I still do it?_ He wondered.  _Kill him for the mission?_  He assumed yes, but knew he would, at the very least, hesitate. That in itself was too great a weakness for his comfort. A writhing worm of a feeling.

Beyond the knowledge that he would almost certainly hesitate in killing Quentin was another uncomfortable thought.  _If I had to do the killing, it would make me sad for a very long time. The Eliot would make sure. And what if it's worse? What if I wouldn't be able to do it at all? To eliminate Quentin then tolerate The Eliot's stupid feelings?_

Another alien weakness. That he could be wrong about his own capability. He realized there was only one smart answer. He must avoid a situation where killing Quentin would become necessary. Which meant he now required not only Quentin's  _cooperation_  in this mission, but his  _loyalty_ to it. A promise of no double crossing, or secret schemes.

_How?_

He knew the answer to that question as well, but like so many of these  _feelings_ he'd been saddled with, it was a foreign thought. A strange food in his gut. He would have to make a  _deal_ with the human. A compromise. It was The Monster's best chance to avoid a dangerous moment.

Killing Quentin would be, he still felt, easy enough. But what The Eliot might make him feel afterward? The things he had no language or muscle to carry? Those things he feared. They were detriments to his survival, and that could not be tolerated.

 _For my own survival,_ he decided as he approached Quentin.  _For my own survival . . ._

"I told you a lie." he said without announcing himself.

"Jesus!" Quentin's body jerked as he spun to face The Monster. "Could you maybe-nevermind, it's not important. What lie?"

The Monster pulled a stool away from the kitchen island and sat down. "I told you a lie, and I think you told me one, too. I'm not mad," he added calmly, holding up a hand. "But I can't have it happen again. So . . . I'll give him back."

"What?" Quentin frowned.

"That's the lie I told," The Monster explained. "That your Eliot is dead. A lie. I am . . .  _sssssssorry?"_ He named the strange feeling with a hint of uncertainty. "So, if you  _promise_ not to plot behind my back, or look for ways to kill me-which is foolish anyhow, I would win-when my body is reassembled, I will do my best to leave this Host alive. And healthy." He smiled at Quentin. "I'll give him back to you."

His friend frowned, fumbling for words. Not the reaction he'd expected.

"You should be happy now." The Monster explained. "I'm offering what you want, I remember you asking for him back. Why are you not happy?"

"It's . . . I'm not . . .  _unhappy."_ Quentin said slowly. "I'm just not sure why you'd . . . offer . . . that . . . ?"

"What do you mean?" The Monster queried, confused.

"Well, c'mon," Quentin scoffed. "You clearly have the upper hand here. You're right, we've tried to stop you, or trap you, gone behind your back, but you're too fucking powerful. You know it! I know it! So please, let's just  _not_ with the bullshit anymore! It's, so . . . " He raked a hand through his hair, confused and frustrated. "So why offer the carrot?"

"You want Eliot  _and_ a carrot?"

Quentin shook his head. "Shit. Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. I meant: why offer me this nice thing?"

"Without Eliot, you're sad," The Monster replied. "And I . . . don't lllllliiiiike it? To see you sad. And Eliot waaaaaantttssss . . ." he tried to make sense of The Host's stew of feelings, the ones boiling so strange in his mind. "He wants to return to you quite badly. More than other hosts wanted. Hosts want things, they always have, but your friend? Your Eliot-"

"My Eliot," Quentin sighed quietly.

"Still sad," The Monster mused. "Your voice is so sad. You knew he was alive in here, I think, somehow. I think he got out recently, and you spoke. See, I couldn't feel him quite so strongly before, but now I do, like he's trying harder. Which could make a mess of things, and I can't have that. No mess."

"Right. No mess." Quentin scoffed. "Just a pile of dead gods."

"We've talked about this Quentin, they took from me. Otherwise I'd leave them alone. They have it coming."

Quentin rolled his eyes, clearly exhausted. "Whatever. So getting back to the  _why_ again, with this deal?"

"It would hurt me to kill you." The Monster explained matter-of-factly. "And I'm worried that I wouldn't go through with it even for my quest."

"Aw, how sweet, you don't wanna murder me." Quentin deadpanned. "Feels like a big warm hug."

"Would you like a hug?" The Monster asked, half-standing.

"God no!" Quentin stepped away, shaking his head.

"Alright. My offer is this, Quentin: you and your Eliot agree to see my quest though to the end. Help assemble my body, or find some other way to make myself whole again,  _without_ betraying me. And . . . when I leave, I will . . . try . . . to leave him intact."

"Try?"

"I will do my best." Said The Monster, puffing with pride. "I've never bothered trying it before, but there must be a way. So much power in so many worlds, there must be some way. I think that's correct, don't you?"

Quentin still seemed puzzled. Which made The Monster feel puzzled.

"If I released his body now I would have no place to go, and that could hurt him worse. A nice new place all ready for me could make the leaving easier." he explained in case Quentin, the oddly valuable human, still didn't understand. "Less risk to The Eliot. I think."

"Okay . . . I get it now."

"Good," The Monster sighed. "Explaining this is  _very_   _tiresome."_

"Yeah, I'm so fucking sorry. But-and I'm not saying no-but isn't this offer really just a gamble?" asked Quentin.

"A  _smart_ gamble. Best chance for all of us to be happy . . . and I think . . ." the pondersome tone returned to The Monster's voice. "I think my best . . .  _happy_  . . . is if you're happy, Quentin. I don't want to leave you sad."

"You don't want to leave me sad?"

"I can let your Eliot take over for a few minutes, if you'd like." Said The Monster. "So you can explain our new, smarter plan . . ." he waited for Quentin to say something. "If this works you can . . . be together . . . aaaaaannnnnd he wants that. I can feel he wants that very much. He should agree."

The Monster watched Quentin's chest rise and fall. He recognized the motion.  _Deep breathing. He's either excited or afraid._

"How many minutes?"

The Monster wanted to allow enough time for Quentin to explain thoroughly, all the reasons his offer was the best way, as well as time for Eliot to ask several stupid human questions. But not enough time for them to hatch a different plan.

"Five minutes." He said eventually, standing up from the stool. "Do we have a deal, Quentin?" He held out his hand. "You . . . shake hands for deals,correct? And then it's a . . . a  _bond?"_ He felt certain the man wouldn't break a bond.

Eliot and Charleton sat, halfheartedly playing chess in his Happy Place, both waiting for some indication that his friends on the outside were trying to reach him. Neither had any idea what that might look like. The ground shaking? Bright light in the window? Them all busting through the wall? Who the fuck knew.

So in the meantime, distractions.

And then, a sudden door. It appeared just to Eliot's left.

He frowned at Charleton.

Charleton frowned back with a small shrug. "The fuck if I know."

"You really are getting good with that word," Eliot smiled. He quite liked Charleton. "Okay," he sighed, rising from his chair. "Might as well. No cheating though," he pointed at the board. "In case I come back."

"Of course not," Charleton promised. "Good luck."

He walked through the door and found himself standing in front of Quentin.

"Q?"

"Oh, thank  _gods!"_ Quentin sighed, rising up on tip-toe and flinging his arms around Eliot's neck. "Are you okay? Is The Monster hurting you?"

 _I mean, all things considered, no . . ._ As mind-prisons went, he figured sitting around in a cottage playing board games was pretty tame.  _Also not important._ He remembered what he'd told memory-Q about being brave and, not knowing how much time they might have before The Monster took over again, he had to act.

"I was wrong," Eliot breathed before crushing his mouth against Q's. "I  _so_ was wrong, and weak, and stupid," he spoke each word in a semi-garbled rush between the kisses he'd spent months and months  _aching for._ "I'msosorry, I'msosorry, Q, I'm-"

"We don't have much time," Q interrupted, reluctantly turning away from another kiss as his feet fell back to the floor. He looped his arms around Eliot's waist and held tight. "Okay. So this is gonna sound completely goddamn bonkers, but right now it's pretty much our best shot at being together."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," El nodded. "Just so we're clear, you  _do_ still want to be-"

"Don't be dumb." Quentin hopped back up on tip-toe to give Eliot a few quick kisses. "Also,  _seriously,_ not much time, so focus up."

Five minutes later Eliot returned to the Happy Place wearing a massive, delirious smile. "Hi, Charleton," he sing-songed, barely feeling his feet on the floor as he wandered to the couch and toppled over in an actual, full-on, ridiculous  _swoon._ "Q loves me."

"Wonderful. Did he make any mention of escape?" Charleton asked.

"Oh yes, that too. There's a plan. It sort of involves teaming up with The Monster."

Charleton's eyes widened. "Then it is a  _terrible_ plan!" He insisted. "The Monster is a, a . . . a  _MONSTER!"_

"Mmhm," Eliot nodded. "But we're pretty sure he'll cooperate. Did I mention Qloves me?"

Charleton crossed his arms with a huff. "Well, I can see you're going to be  _useless_ for a while."

Eliot giggled. "For quite a while, yes. Mmmmmmmmmm," he mused, calm and dream-eyed. "Quentin loves me."

"Ugh." Charleton left the room, muttering  _'fuck'_ with every step.

 

THE END


End file.
